


It's Only Friends

by Pragnificent (PragmaticHominid)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Character, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Platonic Cuddling, snugglefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PragmaticHominid/pseuds/Pragnificent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke + all DA2 companions snuggling platonically fic. I wrote this for myself because I needed it but if other people enjoy it too then I’m happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only Friends

Anders’s fingers press at the knobs of Hawke’s spine. Hawke leans into the touch, feeling the radiating warmth of healing magic burning some of the ache out of their bones.

They’re on the bed, Hawke’s legs dangling over the edge while Anders sits behind them, his own long legs crossed. Hawke is topless, Anders’ hands kneading bare skin and the tense muscle beneath it. This might have been a problem before but it’s okay now; they are good friends.

“No fair,” Isabela says. Hawke turns toward the voice and sees her watching the two of them from the doorway, a mischievous grin on her face. Hawke hadn’t heard her come in. “I want a massage too,” she continues, coming into the bedroom to plop down on the bed with them. She snuggles up against Hawke, who is busy pulling their binder back on.

Anders slides to the side to oblige Isabela’s request. He parts her hair and flips it over her shoulders so it rested against her chest, safely out of his way. She moans contentedly was Anders goes to work on her shoulders.

“Are the three of you doing something dirty?” Merrill asks as she steps through the doorway.

“No, kitten,” Isabela says. “If we were then Hawke would be taking off their clothing, not putting it back on.”

Merrill seems vaguely disappointed at that, but then she smiles again and sits down on the bed on Hawke’s other side, opposite from Isabela. She twines her arm around Hawke’s, lifting their hand and pulling it into her lap, playing with their fingers. Merrill nuzzles her head against Hawke’s shoulder and sighs happily.

Sebastian coughs from the doorway.

 

When Hawke turns their head to meet his eyes he blushes and looks away, apparently confused. Isabela waves her arm in a beckoning gesture and then Merrill takes it up too, coaxing him to come and sit with them all. His armor clinks when he pulls himself up onto the bed.

Carver shakes his head when he sees them all. “You’re bizarre,” he tells his sibling, “and so are all your weird friends.”

"I love you too, little brother," Hawke answers. "Now shut up and get up here with the rest of us." 

The bed creaks under the added weight when Carver sits down. “With my luck the damned thing will break and you’ll all blame me,” he mutters darkly, but once he’s situated with his back against the headboard he looks happy enough. 

“Carver’s right. You’re ridiculous, the whole lot of you,” Aveline says as she comes in, but she’s smiling fondly. It makes her face look soft. “You look like a pile of Mabari puppies.”

“You love us,” Isabela tells her. “Don’t pretend like it isn’t true.”

Aveline rests a hand on Hawke’s shoulder when she climbs up beside Anders, but is careful not to hurt them by putting much weight on it.

She rested a hand on Hawke’s shoulder when she climbed up beside Anders, but was careful not hurt them by putting too much weight on it.

The dog’s claws had begun to click on the floorboards and instant after Aveline said the word “Mabari.” He runs into the room and jumps up onto the bed without so much as a second’s pause to wonder what all of this is about. His stubby tail wiggles wildly as he clambers over Aveline, who grunts at his weight, and deposits as much of himself as would fit into Seb’s lap.

That the Mabari trusts them all so well is how Hawke knows that they are truly good friends. “Some watchdog you are,” they tell him. “Half of Kirkwall lets itself into my house and you don’t let out so much as a whimper.”

By the time Varric joins them there isn’t much room left in the bed, so he hops up into Aveline’s lap. “Maker! You’re heavier than the dog,” she tells him, dumping him back onto the floor.

“What can I say? Dwarves are dense,” he tells her, but they all shift in a bit closer to one another until there’s room enough for him.

“Hawke -” Fenris begins to say as he steps into the the room, but he comes to a sudden halt when he sees the crowd snuggling in the bed.

Hawke reads the expression on his face and understands the trouble. They disentangle themself from among all the legs and arms and go to Fenris, drawing him to the corner so they can speak quietly together.

Out of the corner of their eye, Hawke sees Anders get up too and leave the room, but their attention is too focused on Fenris to give it much thought.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Hawke reassures him.

“I want to,” Fenris tells Hawke, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t. Hawke, it’s too much…”

The chair Anders found makes a lot of noise as he drags it into the bedroom. He sits it by the bed - close but not touching - then looks up at Hawke and Fenris. “Alright?” he asks.

Fenris’ throat works. Hawke worries that he might spit something ugly at the mage, but he swallows the words, whatever they might have been. It occurs to Hawke to wonder if they might have been thanks. 

“It’s only friends,” Hawke says gently. “No one will touch if you don’t want them to.”

Hawke waits, not wanting to pressure him, worried that they’ve asked too much already. But finally, Fenris nods.

He lowers himself into the chair gingerly while Hawke gets back in bed with the others, climbing up sideways this time and drawing their legs up so their toes point at the headboard. Hawke leaves their left hand dangling over the side of the bed where Fenris can reach it he wants to.

They close their eyes and lean their back against Isabela’s shoulder, and Merrill rolls over onto her back and lays her head in Hawke’s lap. Seb is on their other side, and when they meet his eyes he reaches up and ruffles their hair. The dog is already snoring, the side of his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm against Hawke’s leg. 

Fenris will take my hand soon or else he won’t, Hawke thinks, and either way it will be good. This is all so good.

And after a little while, Hawke falls asleep.


End file.
